Vengeance
by Bucken-Berry
Summary: A/O and G/OMC: G/A friendship only. Years ago, Alex and Olivia wrongfully convicted a man of rape- but they don't know it. Once out of prison, he takes his revenge in the worst way possible, and George is caught in the crossfire.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Lots of warnings for this one. Torture and rape are the primary ones.

Please let me know what you think of this story!

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><p>He licked his lips, watching his target walking as if she didn't have a care in the world. Of course, in her eyes, she didn't. She couldn't know what he was planning. And that made it all the sweeter.<p>

Because of _her_, her and her filthy girlfriend, he'd spent the last five years in prison for a crime he hadn't committed. He'd been railroaded, set up by a vengeful ex-girlfriend and all but tortured by the detectives until he'd made a false confession, just to get away from them. At court, he and his lawyer had tried to explain everything, but what was his word against that dynamic duo, Benson and Stabler, and the brilliant ADA Cabot? He'd stood no chance.

And the years in prison had been hell. Almost no human contact, food that made him vomit, regular beatings and threats- sometimes actual attempts- on his life. And, worst of all, what the other prisoners did to him in his cell. He refused to call it rape, because in his mind, that didn't happen to men. He wasn't a fucking fairy. He'd gotten fucked, that was all. It had been so awful, but- plenty of people had been through it, he was no different. But he hadn't deserved it.

And it was made so much worse by the knowledge that he hadn't belonged there in the first place. And though no one in the legal system, hell, no one but he and his damned ex, knew the truth, he would make the cops and the ADA understand. They would learn the hard way what a miscarriage of justice felt like.

He'd done the time. Now it was time for him to do the crime.

* * *

><p>Alex Cabot was almost buzzing with excitement, so much so that she felt like a little girl again. She was absolutely giddy.<p>

Tonight, after three years together, she was going to propose to Olivia.

The decision hadn't been made lightly, of course, and had in fact been building up for months. They'd been through so much together, and Alex wanted their relationship to reflect that.

They'd been through her being shot and put in the Witness Protection Program, they'd been through Olivia being attacked by several suspects, and so much more. It was clear that their relationship was strong enough to withstand everything. Olivia was her match.

What got her started thinking about marriage had been a small, light thing, really. Just a joke from Olivia that she'd marry Alex if she let her have Chinese take-out instead of a nutritious dinner, just this once. Alex had complied and let Olivia call her favorite place. It was then that she had started to think about it seriously. Did Olivia really want to marry her, or was the joke just that?

Over the next few days, it became clear to her that she was ready. She couldn't ask Olivia without ruining the surprise, but she just had this feeling that Olivia was ready too.

Olivia had been the one to make the first move in their relationship, asking- after everything about sexuality and marital status had been cleared up- if she wanted to be more than friends. And Alex had nodded, telling herself that if it ever came to it, she would return the favor by taking the next big step in their relationship- marriage.

Alex almost quivered with delight and excitement as she walked towards the jewelry store she'd chosen. George Huang walked beside her; Alex had wanted him to be there, for a variety of reasons. Moral support, to give his opinion on the ring she chose, and many more reasons than that.

"George, why did you recommend this place, by the way?" Alex asked, looking up at the displays in the window.

George beamed at her. "Can you keep a secret?"

"No, of course not," Alex said sarcastically. "You know me, I'm just a gossipy schoolgirl in a grown-up's body."

"I figured," George replied with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh well, I'll just have to risk telling you anyway." He became serious and reached into his pocket, pulling out a box. "I was just here last week. I'm going to ask Mike to marry me. I've been waiting for the right time."

"Oh, George, that's wonderful!" Alex exclaimed. She laughed softly. "Great minds think alike."

"It is an odd coincidence," George agreed. "But then again, you and I are pretty similar, so it isn't that surprising that we'd make decisions like this so close to each other. I mean, we're the ones who both bought each other the same thing for Christmas two years in a row. And bought season tickets to the New York Philharmonic, on a whim, within a few days of each other."

Alex snorted. "I still say you saw my tickets and were green with envy."

"And I say your goal was to get me to buy the tickets from the start. You had to have known that Olivia will sit through a classical music concert only once pigs learn how to fly," George retorted.

"Okay, we're even," Alex said. She glanced at the entrance to the shop and asked, teasingly, "So are we going to go in here, or are you going to argue all night?"

A mock look of hurt crossed George's face. "You started it."

Alex snickered and opened the door, but George grabbed it from her and ushered her inside first. Alex appreciated his gentle chivalry; she remembered a few times when he'd shown the gestures to Olivia too, like setting his hand on her back when they crossed the street, despite the fact that both Alex and Olivia towered over him. It just showed how kind and gentle he was, and Alex loved having a friend like that.

"So, I'm going to go over there," George said, pointing to a bench in a corner- "And catch up on some paperwork. Take all the time you need, okay?"

"Okay," Alex said, suddenly feeling a little nervous. "When I have one picked out, will you let me know what you think?"

"I will, but you know her better than I do and I'm sure that what you pick will be perfect for her," George said.

"Okay," Alex said, nodding. George smiled reassuringly and set his hand on hers.

Alex walked off, gazing at the displays.

After a few minutes, she started to doubt what George had said about this store. Most of the rings were far too flashy for her and Olivia's tastes, and she frowned, worrying that maybe George wasn't as in-tune with her as she'd thought. Almost all of the rings had the gemstones too big or were too fancy for some other reason. She wanted to give Olivia a nice ring, but realistically, Olivia wouldn't like rings like this.

"Can I help you, dear?" An elderly woman asked, walking towards her. "You don't look very comfortable here."

"I was looking for a ring for my girlfriend," Alex said, pleasantly surprised when the woman didn't look judgmental in the least.

"Oh, congratulations," the woman said. "I'll make sure you find a ring perfectly suited for her. I'm Mabel; what's your name?"

"Alex," Alex replied. "Everything here looks very flashy. We're both a little simpler than that."

"That's because the flashy ones attract the customers better," Mabel replied, smiling wryly. "Customers with tastes like yours are distressingly rare. When I was younger…" But she stopped, shaking her head and giving a soft laugh. "Oh dear, did that make me sound old! 'Back in my day…' Anyway, we have some over here that I'm sure you will find to be absolutely lovely." She started walking towards the back of the store.

"Thank you," Alex said, following her. She looked into the display cases, frowning softly at some of them. These were definitely getting closer, though.

She looked for what felt like hours, until one caught her eye, and something just clicked. It was an elegant band with a small, but not too prominent, diamond affixed to it. Olivia would be able to wear it to work, even, and only have to worry about putting it away during arrests, like Elliot did.

"I think I'd like this one," Alex said, pointing. "I just want to show a friend first and ask for his advice."

"I won't go anywhere," Mabel assured her. "Take as long as you need."

"Thank you," Alex said. She walked to the corner where George was sitting on a bench, using a magazine as a hard surface to set his papers on and write.

"George," she said. "I think I found one."

"That was fast," George commented, looking at his watch. "That was only about twenty minutes."

"That's all?" Alex asked, surprised. "It certainly felt like longer to me." She smiled nervously. "So, will you come tell me what you think?"

"Of course," George said, setting his papers back in his pockets. He followed Alex to the display at the back of the store. Mabel had gotten the ring out of the case so Alex could take another look at it. Alex picked it up and showed it to him.

"Wow, Alex," he said softly. "It's perfect for you and Olivia."

Alex looked at him and saw the sincerity in his face. She smiled, excited and happier than she had felt in a long time. "That settles it, then. I'll take it!" she announced.

"Good. Over here, then," Mabel said, walking to a cash register.

Once the ring was paid for, George and Alex took a cab to a diner, having realized that they hadn't eaten in twelve hours. It came with the territory, considering the number of cases they'd been working. It had almost felt perverse, thinking about romance while working with so much tragedy, but then Alex had realized that the opposite was true. She wasn't going to let the scum of the city ruin what she had with Olivia.

Alex swallowed a mouthful of the salad she'd ordered and leaned back in the booth as George updated her on Mike. Mike owned a bookstore, and since George was so good at separating his work and home lives, their relationship was blessedly calm and normal.

"So he's hoping to get some good talking pieces in the store soon," George finished, taking a bite of his sandwich. "A historic or old book, something autographed by a famous author, something like that. But other than that, he doesn't have any complaints. He's hoping to add a coffee store in the corner of the place, since that seems to be working for some other places, small stores and chains like Barnes and Noble alike."

"Sounds nice," Alex said. "I hope it works. He sure seems to love the place."

She yawned, stifling it on the back of her hand. "That was because I'm tired, I swear."

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired too," George said. "Today's been a long day."

"Want to head out, then?" Alex asked, raising her hand lazily as a waitress walked by.

"Yeah, that sounds good," George said, stifling a yawn of his own.

George tried to pay for the whole bill, but Alex insisted on paying for her part. Once they had left the money and a nice tip on the table, they left, Alex clutching her purse- which had the bag containing the boxed ring in it- protectively. They walked down the almost-deserted street, waiting for a cab to drive by so they could flag it down.

With both of them so happy and thinking about their futures with their respective lovers, neither of them could be blamed for failing to realize that they were being followed.

* * *

><p>He had been right, of course. She truly didn't have a care in the world.<p>

And where was he?

He ground his teeth. If she had seemed as miserable as he was, he might have been willing to do something less drastic, but this cemented it. He was going to make Cabot pay.

By doing this, he'd get his revenge on Benson as well. She loved Alex, for one reason or another, and knowing she was missing and being hurt would cause her so much pain. And he'd get to inflict pain directly on Alex. Two birds, one stone.

He felt a little guilty that, from what he could tell, an innocent man was going to get caught in this, but he couldn't take any chances on witnesses and plus, given that this man was with the FBI, he'd probably done something similar to what had been done to him to other people, so he very well could be the same as Benson and Cabot.

It didn't matter that much to him, though. Just a footnote to his plan.

He nodded at his two comrades and shooed them out of the truck. "Ace, Hotshot, move now."

He watched with a satisfied smug on his face as the two pulled their weapons out and walked out of the alley, approaching Cabot and the other and smacking them senseless before they could say a word.

Then he moved in. He took the satisfaction of dragging the unconscious blonde to the truck and tossing her in unceremoniously. Ace and Hotshot followed less than a minute later.

"Hurry up," he called. So far, the attack and kidnapping was going perfectly and he didn't want to give it the chance to go wrong.

Once the other had been put into the truck and the door closed, they returned to the front. He almost laughed with excitement and instead channeled the feelings into stomping the gas peddle.

"Cabot, Cabot, Cabot," he sighed. He licked his lips, thinking of all the things he had in store for her and her friend.

* * *

><p>He hadn't known what had hit him. The expression was overused, but in George's case, it wasn't even an expression. He meant it literally.<p>

He groaned from his new spot on the ground, squeezing his eyes shut against the pounding in his head and back. "Alex?" he croaked. "Alex, can you hear me? Are you there?"

"Shut it," a male voice snarled. George somehow managed to blink his eyes open and see the two- or four?- men looming above him. Their figures were so blurry, though, that he couldn't make out any identifying features at all. He blinked rapidly and the four men became two. _I must have one hell of a concussion_, George thought vaguely. _Double vision is never a good sign. And I haven't needed glasses in years so they shouldn't be blurry._

"Alex," he whispered anyway. Fear and protectiveness rose inside him as his brain pieced things together. "Where is she? What did you do to her?" he demanded of their attackers.

"Same thing we did to you. Now shut up. You're coming with us and you won't make a sound if you value your life and hers," one of the men said.

"What-" George began.

But then the men were dragging him and a helpless groan escaped him. His head was going to explode, his ribs were cracked and they were jarring with every torturous breath-

He was slammed into the back of a truck, so roughly it made his vision go black for several seconds and his eyes slid shut. When he finally managed to get them open, the truck was moving. He turned his head to the side, biting his lip, and caught sight of Alex. She was just as bad as he was, maybe even worse, because she was unconscious or, at best, semi-conscious. At least he was awake and mostly coherent.

"Alex," he whispered, crawling towards her. Pain exploded in his head again, but he managed to work through it. He inched towards her until finally, he was right beside her. He shook her shoulder. "Alex, please, you have to wake up-"

The truck hit a bump. George gasped, feeling nausea overwhelm him, not from carsickness but the concussion. He turned to the side and vomited, panting and groaning in pain, head swimming. The room tipped and spun around him. "Oh, fuck," he gasped weakly. He never cursed, but he felt the situation more than justified it.

George closed his eyes, fatigued. He hadn't had much sleep the night before and his injuries weren't helping any. He knew he shouldn't sleep, not only because of the medical danger involved but also because of the situation itself. He needed to be able to see where they were going, needed to be able to fight and, if worst came to worst, tend to any more injuries they may acquire when the men did whatever it was they wanted to do. He needed to stay awake and alert.

But telling himself that only worked for so long before his eyes closed involuntarily and darkness overwhelmed him, tugged him into its depths. He continued to fight it, but knew it was a losing battle and he was only delaying the inevitable.

_Alex_, he said silently as consciousness started to slip away. _Hold on…_

He barely understood what was happening or why, but he knew that somehow, in less than five minutes, they'd gone from carefree and at the top of the world to potentially facing their last minutes alive. He also knew that there was a significant chance they'd never see anyone they cared about again.

Faces swam in front of him. His lover, his sister, his friends.

_Mike… Gracie… Olivia… Casey…_

Another bump jostled his body, he cried out briefly as the pain overwhelmed him, and then- nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's chapter two. I hope I wrote everything realistically. Feedback is always welcomed.

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><p>Alex's eyes fluttered lightly. She winced as pain flared through her, but managed to stay quiet.<p>

What had happened? She had been with George, getting dinner, and then…

The men, wearing masks and using codenames, the baseball bat, the threats. They'd struck George, and he'd gone down hard- and then they'd hit her, too, and she'd passed out.

"George!" she called, rolling over. The adrenaline pumping through her system blocked the pain enough to let her move.

She saw that they were in a truck, and George was lying nearby. George looked absolutely awful, but that wasn't too surprising, though she was still worried. "George, can you hear me?" she asked.

George gave a small sound, but Alex couldn't tell whether it was an involuntary one or whether he was truly waking up. "George," she said again, shaking his shoulder.

"Ow," George gasped, but he opened his eyes.

"Sorry for hurting you," Alex said softly. "But I had to wake you up somehow."

"It's fine. I was unconscious for at least a while, so it's good that you woke me up," George said. "I would've done the same."

"Do you need help sitting up?" Alex asked. "Or do you want to stay there?"

George started to nod, but then he cringed and instead said, "Yeah- help me up, please."

Alex set her arm under George's shoulder and helped to pull him up to a sitting position. She helped him lean against the side of the truck, and then fell against it herself when some of the adrenaline left her and the pain returned.

"Will you be okay?" Alex asked, closing her eyes wearily. She opened them a few moments later.

George looked at her, face full of concern. "I'm more worried about you."

"I'm fine, just sore," she said unconvincingly.

George smiled weakly. "I doubt that. But since you're you, I'll pretend to take your word for it."

"Thanks," Alex said dryly. But she turned somber again as she asked, "How serious do you think our injuries are?"

"We both have concussions, at the very least, and they could turn dangerous if we don't get to a hospital. But I doubt they're about to bring us to one," George said. "But since we're awake and lucid now, that's a good sign that it isn't life-threatening. If we were to show up at a hospital, we'd probably get MRI's and CAT scans, and they'd keep us under close observation, but I doubt we'd need surgery. They'd probably keep us for a while to make sure, but that's all. I think we'll be okay."

"Assuming they don't do anything else to us," Alex said grimly.

"Yeah," George agreed. He shifted, biting his lip and holding his arm tightly against his chest.

"How badly are you hurt?" Alex asked worriedly.

George hesitated. "Pretty bad," he admitted.

George was a lot like her, and one of the things they had in common was their stubborn refusal to admit injuries. If George was actually admitting that he was hurt, he must have been feeling awful.

"Where do you hurt?" Alex asked, looking him over.

"Pretty much everywhere. You are too, I'd imagine," George said. Fatigue entered his voice.

She touched George's arm, retreating slightly when she felt him wince. She moved closer so that she could see in the dim light, and she bit back a gasp when she saw the bruise that had formed. It was so dark that it was almost black instead of purple or blue. He had a sprain at the very least, and she was surprised that the bone wasn't broken after all the abuse his wrist had clearly suffered. "Why did they do that?" Alex asked. "Once they'd gotten you subdued, they didn't need to do anything else to hurt you."

"Rage, probably," George said, trying but failing not to mumble as his energy faded. He closed his eyes again. "Or just plain sadism. They liked using us as punching bags."

"Why us, though?" Alex asked.

"Do you know any of them?" George asked, opening his eyes for a few moments. Alex could tell that he was close to falling asleep again. "The way they were about you, it felt like a personal vendetta. When I got in the way, that would have set them off."

"Not that I could tell. They only used codenames- stupid, cheesy ones, but still codenames- so I wouldn't know. And they wore masks, so I couldn't even go off their looks, either," Alex said.

George nodded once, but didn't speak. He closed his eyes again and for a few moments, it looked like he'd fallen asleep.

"George?" Alex asked worriedly.

"I'm awake," he murmured. "Not sure how long I'll stay that way, though."

"Try," Alex urged. Using the wall for support, she stood, muscles screaming in protest. She reached her hands down and helped George up, supporting his weight as he sagged against her.

"Not going to fall asleep standing up, are you?" Alex asked, intending to keep her voice light but failing.

"We'll see," George muttered.

Before Alex could say another word, the truck came to a stop. They heard the doors opening and closing and the sound of feet on the ground. They both went silent and waited, nervous at what their captors were doing. They heard them getting closer, until they were just outside.

The door opened, and a little light came in, though not much, as it was still night. It couldn't have been more than a few hours since they'd been taken, then. Or it could have been a whole day, but Alex doubted that.

Two men were visible. One of them gestured with the baseball bat and snapped, "Come on."

Alex wanted to refuse on principle, but it wasn't like they had anywhere else to go and she didn't want to set them off. With how violent they had been to get them here, Alex didn't want to see what they would do if they were truly angry.

Alex and George struggled to walk, burdened with pain, fear, and fatigue, but finally, they made it to the opening. Alex breathed the fresh air in slowly and prepared herself to fight if needed. The truck was quite high up, she noted.

"Can you make it down?" she asked George. George nodded weakly. "I'll go first so I can help you," she offered. George would normally have been a little stronger than her, but he obviously wasn't right now, and she was taller.

She didn't feel up to jumping down either, but the need to help George gave her just enough strength to overcome her own weakness. She let George go, and after waiting a second to make sure he could stand on his own, she pushed herself out of the truck and to the ground. Then she held her arms out as George attempted the same. He gave a small cry of pain and his legs wobbled as he landed, but Alex caught and steadied him.

She looked him over, trying to figure out what she was missing. Even with his concussion, that still wasn't enough to explain his dismal condition. There was something else, but she didn't known what.

Her alarm was quickly diverted as one of their attackers pulled out a gun and growled, "Follow us. If you so much as think about fighting us or running, or giving anything beside your full cooperation, we'll shoot you both and leave you for dead. There's nowhere you can go; the nearest town is miles away."

Alex swallowed hard, but nodded. She looked over at George and whispered, "Can you walk?"

"Don't have a choice, do I?" he replied. He fought to keep his eyes open. "Just support me like you've been doing." He exhaled sharply and whispered, "I just want to sleep. I'm so tired…"

"Just hold on," Alex encouraged, setting her fear and pain aside. She grabbed George's arm and placed it over her shoulders so that she could support more of his weight. She was alarmed at how heavily he leaned on her for support, at how quickly he seemed to be fading, but there wasn't anything she could do about that now. She took a step, and though he moved slowly, George still managed to walk.

One of the men stayed behind to keep an eye on them, while the two in front led the way. They trekked through a wooded trail, and soon came to a house. They took the stairs to the entrance, the pace slowing down as George struggled to work up the energy to negotiate the steps. Finally they were at the top, and they walked inside.

Alex looked around. They were in a living room, furnished with a sofa and loveseat. Before she could look at anything else, the men started walking down the hall, and Alex once again struggled to get George there. They walked down one more flight of stairs, coming to a two-room basement. They were standing in a bedroom, and Alex presumed the adjoining room was a bathroom.

"Al… ex…" George said faintly. The color drained from his face and his legs almost gave out under him, and Alex just barely managed to get him balanced against a wall in time. What was wrong with him? She wondered, panicked.

"Please, just let George sit down," Alex pleaded, looking at their three captors. "He's really hurt. Whatever you need to do- can't it be here?"

"Fine," the same one who had carried the gun- Alex presumed him to be the leader- said. "He can sit over there." He gestured to the bed in the corner.

"C'mon, George, just a few more steps," Alex whispered encouragingly. They barely made it to the bed and Alex eased him down, the small man all but collapsing. On impulse, Alex lifted his shirt, and she gasped at the bruising she saw. Combined with the concussion, that explained everything. They could have caused internal injuries with the force they'd clearly used on him. Even if they thought they needed to use more force to subdue a man, there still wasn't any reason for them to have hit him that hard; it was like they had used him as a punching bag, but with the baseball bat. Not that there was a good reason for them to have kidnapped them, either, she thought angrily.

She wondered why he hadn't said anything earlier, but she supposed he must have been focused on the concussion. And it was a lot like him to try and deny any weakness when possible. He'd probably thought any weakness he felt was the result of that instead of any internal trauma from the other bruises. Her own concussion symptoms were slowly improving, but his obviously weren't.

She set George's shirt back down. George's eyes were closed, his breathing slow and deep. Alex jogged his shoulder, but he didn't respond: he was either deeply asleep or he had lost consciousness again.

"What do you want with us?" Alex demanded, looking across the room.

The leader stepped forward. "You'll find out soon enough. Now, as for your friend…" He grabbed his gun and pointed it in their direction. "We really don't have a use for him: it's all about you. It's a good thing he's asleep, so he won't feel this. Lucky for him."

_No! _Alex's mind screamed. Her heart started to pound against her chest, and her body almost froze with fear. "P-Please!" she cried, and any other time she would have been embarrassed that her voice was a pathetic squeak. "You don't need to do that! Just- if it's me you want, don't punish him for it! Just let him go."

"Well, ADA's like you hate to make deals," the man said, almost playfully. "I don't think you know how to be fair."

"I'll do whatever you want!" Alex promised. Adrenaline flooded her, to the point that it was in excess, and her fight-or-flight response kicked in. She felt her muscles tensing, readying her for a fight or running. Her body screamed at her to charge, to do _something_. "He's already hurt bad enough as it is. Just let him go, he doesn't pose any danger to you in his state."

"Well, Cabot, let me tell you something. Right now, the way I see it, I have the chance to get rid of one threat and to use that to my advantage later on. But if I have something to gain, which I think I may, I'm willing to let him stay alive, with a few conditions."

"What are they?" Alex said. She would agree to nearly anything at this point, as long as it meant both of them made it out alive.

It didn't even occur to her to wonder why he knew her name and job title. All she cared about was protecting George.

"You both become our prisoners. You're always putting people there, not caring about the possibility that they may not deserve it. Now we get to do that to you. You both stay here, you both do whatever I say. You break any of my rules, the deal's off and he dies. If he breaks any of my rules, he dies. I don't care about him one bit, but you do, so tread carefully and get him to do the same," the man said.

Alex swallowed hard. It wasn't an easy thing to agree to- who knew what the men were going to do to them?- but anything was better than death. "O-okay," she said, swallowing hard.

"Good. Now, get over here," the man said. The other two started walking to her.

Alex swallowed again, glancing at George, then started walking. They met her halfway. Her heart was still hammering and she wanted to run even as she looked at each of them.

"Strip." The command was simple, but Alex knew what it meant. She knew the pain she was about to suffer, knew that her life was about to change beyond the point of no return, if it hadn't already.

Too afraid to argue, she inhaled slowly and tried to control the trembling that started in her limbs. She undid the buttons on her shirt one-by-one, then moved on to her pants. She thought of Olivia, and what Olivia would say when she found them. Olivia would make it okay. She'd save them and help Alex move on. Alex knew what she was facing but Olivia would support her through it. She just had to make it out of this alive.

She pulled off her bra and panties, already sending herself somewhere else. She started planning her wedding to Olivia, what the two would wear and where they'd get married. She wondered what George and Mike would do for theirs. She and Olivia would probably do something outside, maybe in a garden. George and Mike didn't like summer as much, though. Maybe they'd get married in the snow. She almost giggled at the thought. Maybe they'd all sit on sleds during the ceremony.

When the man forced her to the ground and pushed inside her, tears formed in her eyes from pain and humiliation. She wanted to fight, she wanted to punch and kick this bastard black and blue. But she couldn't let herself cause George's death, so she stayed still, biting her lip to keep in her cries.

The man smacked and backhanded her and did everything he could to make it as painful as possible. She couldn't stop herself from crying out, and she tried desperately to think of something, anything, comforting. She thought about George. If he had been awake, he would talk to her through it and distract her. She heard his voice in her head, soothing her with that deep, even voice of his- not the weak, frightening one she'd heard minutes earlier- and instructing her on how to keep her mental state intact. So she looked over at him and pretended to talk, pretended to start another one of their mock arguments. She was a coffee addict, whereas George preferred tea as his source of caffeine whenever he could. She could hear him retorting about the sludge at the station and how battery acid would probably be more satisfying.

She felt the shudder from her attacker- her captor, her _rapist- _and he pulled out of her a minute later. She breathed a sigh of relief, wanting nothing more than to collapse on the bed and join George in sleep.

The men leered at her. One of them, one who wasn't the leader said, tauntingly, "Now, go get some rest. We'll all be having fun tomorrow. All except you and him-" He pointed to George- "That is."

The leader did nothing to contradict the statement. Alex bit her lip. More pain awaited. And what were they going to do to George? Hoping they'd leave him alone was optimistic to the point of foolishness. All she could hope was that they didn't give him lethal injuries. But any men unstable enough to kidnap two people, nearly kill them, and rape one, couldn't be trusted for anything.

She somehow managed to push herself up and limp towards the bed. The pain between her legs was excruciating, but not enough that she couldn't walk. She somehow found the drive to make it to the bed, where her strength finally wavered and she sank down weakly.

She glared at the three as they left the room, screaming curses at them in her mind. She'd get to tell them exactly what she thought of them some day, she was determined of that. And Olivia would have some choice words for them once she found them. And Elliot. No, Elliot wouldn't, he'd have choice _fists_ for them. She smirked to herself. Between Olivia, Elliot, Don, Fin, and Munch, these guys were going to regret ever touching her. As soon as she got out of here, at least. She knew realistically that the chances dropped steadily with every minute they spent here, but planning her revenge gave her some much-needed happiness.

She shook George's shoulder again, but he was still out like a light. Looking at the other side of the bed, she saw that there was a folded-up blanket and a pillow on the corner. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her. She felt guilty for not sharing, but George still had his clothes and she didn't, and besides, he was already asleep. She lifted George's neck gently and set the pillow under him, then set her own aching head on it.

Her head ached. Every inch of her body ached. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain was returning in full force. She stared at the ceiling and tried to keep from crying. She wished she would wake up and find that this had all been an awful nightmare, but she knew that wasn't going to happen.

Hopefully George would be better soon and he could help her with this. If their attackers followed through on their promise, they were in for a hellacious day tomorrow. They'd need each other's support.

She was too tired and in too much pain to think anymore. She closed her eyes and eventually, the pain lessened enough for her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. Here's a super-long chapter to make up for it. I'm not sure if this chapter turned out how I like it, but I'll let you guys decide. :) Please review!

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><p>Alex groaned quietly, opening her eyes. Pain flared through her, muscles and bones screaming in protest to the treatment they'd received the day before. The horrifying memories returned to her in full force and she bit her lip, looking at the floor. Just a few short hours ago everything had been perfect, and now...<p>

Shaking the thought out of her head- it wouldn't help them now- she looked at George worriedly. He looked better, but he was still out like a light and judging from his position, probably hadn't as much as stirred throughout the night. She hoped the sleep had done him good; he needed to be stronger today than he had been last night.

"Ow," she gasped, pushing herself up. Nausea slammed through her; she was sure it was from the concussion. She closed her eyes for a moment and stood, walking around the room. She grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on: she hadn't been thinking clearly enough last night to realize that her clothes were right there, and even if she had realized it, she would have been in too much pain to put them on.

She opened the bathroom door and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything appeared functional, so she walked to the sink and turned the water on, splashing some cold water on her face.

She gaped when she saw two new, unopened toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste sitting on the counter; that proved that these men had planned this out carefully. She shook her head, unnerved, and opened one. After brushing her teeth, she decided against a shower, on the chance that George would wake up while she was in there, and returned to the main room.

There was a desk near the bed, a large one; they would both be able to fit in front of it. Other than that and the bed, the room was bare.

"Mmm…"

Alex startled at the soft sound, not quite a moan, coming from George. She turned around and looked at the bed. George was frowning deeply, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

"George," she said, walking over to the bed and sitting next to him. She shook his shoulder. "George, can you hear me?"

"Hmm…" George frowned again, trying to open his eyes. "Alex?" he whispered groggily. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Alex asked, rubbing George's head. "Sorry," she added when he cringed in pain.

"We were… we were shopping for your engagement ring, right?" George asked. Alex nodded. "And then we went to eat, and..." He shook his head. "It's hard to remember."

"Do you remember anything at all after that?" Alex pressed. "Try."

George closed his eyes, concentrating. "Three men jumped out from an alley. They put us in a van, and you were unconscious. I tried to wake you up. Everything goes dark after that- I truly can't remember anything else until now." He sat up, wincing. "They took our rings, didn't they?" he asked sadly.

"Yeah," Alex said ruefully. "And our phones, and pretty much everything but the clothes on our backs."

George exhaled slowly, nodding as much as he could without hurting himself. "What happened after I blacked out?"

"They brought us here. You could barely walk but we managed to get down here. You were out like a light as soon as they let you sit down. Then they threatened you and made me agree to have both of us stay here- as their prisoners, they said- in exchange for them not killing you on the spot." She looked down, not wanting to think about the previous night.

"And then once I agreed to do what they wanted, they left and said that they'd… do some things today," she finished flatly, omitting the rape: she didn't want him to know.

"This has to personal," George thought aloud. "They wouldn't have said those things if they were attacking us for any other reason. Think carefully; do you know them from anywhere? Have you ever seen them before?"

"I don't know," Alex said. "I just… I wasn't really thinking about anything but you and me surviving."

"Okay, I understand," George said. "But if you recognize them later…"

"I'll tell you," Alex interrupted, agitated, though she wasn't sure why George's questions made her feel that way.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" George asked gently. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Alex flinched at the touch. "Alex," George said, realization dawning on him, "Something happened last night that you're not telling me. Did they-"

Alex glared at him. "That's none of your business," she snapped.

"I'm just trying to help," George said softly.

"Well, stop it," she said.

"Alex," George whispered. "Look at me." She did, with great difficulty. "I'm so sorry. But we'll be found soon, and then... it'll be okay."

Alex looked away. "It's okay," she muttered, even though it wasn't. "Is your concussion any better?" she asked to chance the subject.

George sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to reason with her. "Yes. A little. It still hurts, but I'm not as nauseated and I don't feel like I'm about to black out." He set a hand on his stomach, feeling pain flash when it touched. "The bruising on my abdomen is pretty bad, but the swelling's gone down some, and I doubt there are any serious internal injuries. I'd probably be dead by now if there were any." Though, there were internal injuries that could take days to kill, but he didn't think he had any of those. Not that he could know for sure, of course, but he felt confident.

"That's good," Alex said lamely. She rubbed her temples. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Alex," George said again. He patted the back of her hand gently. "We'll survive this, and… It will be okay. We'll be okay."

"Yeah," Alex said unenthusiastically. She wished she could believe him, but she knew it was just him trying to comfort her, instead of him saying things like they really were. She knew that if they weren't found within a few hours, their chances of being found alive dropped significantly. Olivia and Mike had to know they were missing by now, but that wasn't enough time to get anyone to investigate their disappearance. By the time anyone had gained any leads, their captors could move them somewhere else, or even kill them. If they managed to smuggle them out of the country, their odds of being found were practically zero.

"I'm so sorry," George whispered, blinking back tears. "This shouldn't have happened to you. I should have-"

"There wasn't anything you could have done," Alex said. Something was off about her voice. It was hollow, wooden, even though she meant the words. "They hurt you bad enough to down a linebacker. It's amazing that you aren't in a coma right now. Don't worry about not protecting me: it isn't your fault. It's theirs." She gestured her head at the door.

Even as she said the words, something in her still felt angry at George. She knew it was irrational, and that it truly was only their captor's fault, but inside, she felt that George was right; he should have protected her. If he hadn't been so hurt, if she hadn't felt responsible for saving his life, things could have gone differently. She could have fought back.

For a brief second, she even regretted listening to the men when they'd threatened George's life, but the instant the thought crossed her mind she silently screamed at herself. How could she even think that? How could she even think about saving herself over him, when he would never even hesitate to help her no matter what the cost?

She rubbed her forehead, guilt already rising in her throat like bile. She was sorely tempted to beg George for forgiveness even though there was no way he could know what she was thinking.

She had no more time to think about it, however, because the door opened right then. She looked over at George, swallowing hard, silently asking him what to do. He shook his head, telling her, _I don't know either._

The men entered the room. "Hello there, Counselor," the leader said with a tauntingly cheery voice. "You look great. And dear Agent Huang is looking well, much better than last night."

Alex glared at him. He was tall and muscular, with a shaved head and brown eyes, but not handsome in the least. His cronies, Thing One and Thing Two, as she called them, were more conventionally attractive, shorter but not lacking in muscle. Given everything they'd said about prison, she suspected they'd been incarcerated for a long time before this. Thing One had short brown hair and brown eyes, while Thing Two had also shaved his head and had blue eyes, almost like Elliot's, but colder. They looked like the scum they were. She hated them, and their looks only cemented it.

"In fact," the man continued, walking forward, "You look better than good. Almost… pretty. I'm willing to bet Cabot filled you in on what we told her- you're our prisoners now. And you know what we do to pretty boys in prison? Especially ones we know were fags before coming in?" He smirked, setting his hand on George's cheek tauntingly.

"Get your hand off me," George said, voice calm but laced with venom. "You're disgusting."

"You don't give the orders around here, faggot," their attacker growled. Then he slapped George's face, laughing at him. George ground his teeth but remained silent, though he did try to strike back. Catching George's arm, the man snarled, "Remember, if you don't cooperate, you die, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Jason and Sammie over there like a bit of fight, but not as much as you give."

"Got that right, Thomas," either Jason or Sammie leered.

"Murder me, and you get the death sentence, no _ifs, ands, or buts about it,_" George retorted, adding a mocking tone to the last words. "I'm a federal agent-" He yelped when his hair was suddenly tugged brutally hard, head yanked closer to the man.

"You really think we care?" Thomas asked, pulling George's hair tighter and hitting his face again.

"Stop it!" Alex cried, unable to keep silent anymore. "Leave him alone!"

"You stay out of this, bitch," Thomas shot back at her. He smacked George one more time and shoved him back onto the bed. George's hand went up to touch his face, and he cringed. The blows certainly weren't doing anything to help the pain from his concussion- it felt like someone had bashed his head in with bricks. He closed his eyes, rubbing his head.

Alex felt fear slam through her when the gun was pulled out again and shoved in George's face. George opened his eyes and reflexively jumped backwards when he saw it, fear clear on his face.

"I think you owe me an apology," Thomas growled.

"Sorry," George said meekly, muscles tensed in anticipation.

"What are you sorry for?" Thomas prompted, leering at him.

"I'm sorry I fought against you," George muttered. "It won't happen again." He closed his eyes when Thomas started to tighten his finger around the trigger, but no shot came. Instead, he lunged forward and used the gun as a blunt weapon, striking George's chest with the butt of the gun. George gasped, holding his arms out protectively, but his arms were quickly worked around and he felt several of his ribs cracking as the blows rained down.

He groaned, continuing to try to protect himself, but he failed miserably. His ribs were hit brutally hard, and after the same two ribs were hit three consecutive times, he felt them snap. He finally cried out, writhing to try and protect his side. The bones immediately started to burn and throb, and every little movement, even breathing, made it worse. He made himself stop fighting: even though he wanted to fight back, he was unable to take the pain. The pain got worse with every hit, and soon he felt like he was going to pass out from pain- and he wanted to. The ache in his ribs was past his threshold.

Alex watched helplessly as her best friend was attacked. She wanted nothing more than to help him- the sickening sight in front of her was tearing at her heart- but the gun was right there, and it was better for George to be in intense pain, but alive, than dead from a bullet to the skull, and she had no doubt that that was what would happen if she attempted to intervene. She closed her eyes as a sharp cry escaped George, and she clenched her fists helplessly. Then he went quiet and, after two more audible strikes, Thomas stopped hitting him and called, "Look over here, Cabot."

Alex complied, feeling crushed as she took in George, shaking on the bed and twisting as much as he could to try and ease the pain.

"There's been a little change of rules," Thomas said casually. "He still pays for what either of you do wrong. But now, little fuckups get that." He gestured at George. "You do anything wrong, and that's what happens, but much, much worse each time. But don't think we've changed our minds about killing him if either of you fuck up big enough. Got it?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Please, just-"

"Watch it," he warned. "I'm not in a generous mood."

Alex swallowed, looking at the ground. She wanted to rush to the bed and comfort her friend, but she knew their captors weren't about to let that happen. She silently willed him to hold on, wishing that she could say the words aloud.

"Come with me," Thomas ordered. He turned to the other two, who started walking towards the bed. "Sammie, Jason, you know the rules." He grinned. "Have fun with the fag."

Alex ground her teeth in anger. Swallowing the insults she wanted to call them, she followed him out of the room, even as pure hatred welled up like acid. She would give anything just to smack this asshole, even once.

They walked back up the stairs, back near the living room and off another hall. They entered the second of three bedrooms.

"Sit down."

Alex sighed inwardly, but complied. Thomas sat next to her and forced his lips against hers. Alex's lips didn't move: he may as well have kissed a breathing wall.

She gasped in pain when he squeezed her breast, then closed her eyes in shame. He motioned to the bed and she made herself lie down, once again letting her thoughts wander as he undressed her.

"Olivia," she thought desperately, "Olivia, where are you?"

She blinked back tears as he pushed in roughly.

And then she heard a scream of pain from the basement, and she lost it. "I need you, Liv," she cried silently, body shaking with sobs.

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><p>George was barely aware by the time the pistol-whipping stopped; he certainly didn't register the words being spoken, only that Alex's voice was there. He felt afraid when she left, but couldn't call out to her. He just curled around himself protectively, hoping that whatever she was doing didn't take long, even though he knew it wasn't going to happen that way.<p>

He didn't even register that the other two men were still there until he felt their rough hands manhandling him. They yanked him upwards, jarring his ribs and making him groan.

They yanked his clothes off, leaving no question what they had in mind. The words echoed in his mind- "You know what we do to pretty boys in prison?"- and he knew just how determined the three were to get revenge for their experiences in jail.

The first one didn't bother preparing him at all. No lubricant, not even saliva, no fingers, no nothing. The pain was like his insides being torn apart, and he bit his lip to keep quiet. It didn't work for very long and soon he was crying from pain. Everything else faded away, and he was only aware of the agony each thrust sent through him. Even when he felt the hot, sticky fluid spill into him, it was only a short time before the other one pushed in as well.

If his senses weren't so overwhelmed, he was sure he would have felt ashamed and degraded, but his emotions were so far away that he couldn't feel them. All he felt was the physical pain, the throb in his chest that made it difficult to breathe, the bruising on his stomach and pounding in his head, the ripping sensation inside him that got worse when the thrusts became faster and harder and actually drew blood.

The second man got off on inflicting pain, George quickly learned. He did whatever he could to make it hurt more- thrusting harder, hitting him, especially where he was already injured, even having the other attacker target George's genitals, squeezing, slapping, digging with his fingernails. Soon George couldn't even give the screams and groans that so aroused the rapist, but it wasn't enough to stop him from climaxing.

He gave a quiet whimper of relief as the assault finally stopped. They let him collapse face-down on the bed, a bruised and bloody mess.

When he became aware again, Alex was yelling his name, begging him to wake up and say something. She managed to turn him over and he moaned, letting his body go limp to reduce the sensations.

Her soft hand cupped his cheek, and he managed to open his eyes, ever so slightly.

"Hey," she whispered, gently stroking his forehead, "Can you talk?"

His throat. She must have heard him.

"T… Think so," he croaked. His voice was hoarse. He opened his eyes again. She looked tired and hurt, face lined with worry. Her lip was cut and her clothes had small tears in them.

"Where do you hurt?" Alex asked him, using a softer voice than he'd ever heard from her. He must have looked awful.

He closed his eyes. "Head," he whispered. "Stomach. Ribs." And places he didn't want to mention to her, but knew he'd have to.

"They…" Alex began, but trailed off.

He knew what she was asking. "One of them- Sammie, I think-" George inhaled slowly- "He liked hurting me. It aroused him"

"So that's why-" Alex paused- "That's where the penile injuries are from. There were some small cuts." She winced sympathetically.

He nodded, humiliated not only by what had happened but the fact that Alex knew as well. "He had the other one dig in with his fingernails," he muttered, shuddering. It had hurt worse than he thought possible.

"And the…" Alex paused again, then said the next words in a bit of a rush. "And the rectal bleeding, is it serious?"

George sighed inwardly. "Maybe. I don't know. But there's nothing we can do in either case," he said flatly.

"Okay," Alex said softly. "One more thing. Your ribs?"

"At least two are broken, and one or two others are either cracked or bruised," he said, his voice quiet and still hoarse. He took another careful breath. "It hurts," he whispered.

"I know," Alex said gently.

And Alex had to be hurting too, but just like the night before, he couldn't help her. He should have been talking her through it, helping to reach her and stop her from shutting down, but instead, he was too badly injured to help her. He felt useless. Worse than useless- like a burden.

Alex somehow knew what he was thinking, because she leaned forward and whispered, "This isn't your fault. You aren't doing anything wrong- they beat the shit out of you, no one can expect you to be the strong one after that. Don't worry about me, just try to hang in there a while."

George bit his lip, but nodded. Alex hesitated for a moment before sitting on the bed. She lifted the pillow and set it on her stomach. "Come here," she said.

George swallowed, then eased himself into position, lying between Alex's legs and resting his head on the pillow. She set the blanket over him and rubbed his head, firmly enough to feel soothing, but gently enough that it didn't hurt. After a moment, he reached up and squeezed one of her hands. "Thank you," he whispered, looking up at her.

Alex smiled sadly and started stroking his forehead, which, though she didn't know it, was what Mike always did when they were together and Mike wanted to ease him to sleep. He closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling at the thought, and instead let himself enjoy it. Her hand was lighter and softer, but it was close enough to Mike's, enough that he could almost pretend that he was at home and Mike was taking care of him after an attack by a patient, instead of- this.

His body started to feel heavier, his thoughts more sluggish, and his eyes drifted closed. Alex was whispering softly to him, the words lost on him but still soothing. The tension, and even some of the pain, drained from him, allowing him to finally relax.

He wasn't aware of falling asleep. One moment he was just in the comfortable lull, the next he was in a deep, dreamless sleep.

Alex watched George sleeping for a long time, heart aching. His pain hurt her far worse than her own, as bad as her pain was. She was glad that she had at least been able to help him sleep. She knew he'd be doing the same for her if the roles were reversed.

After a while, she decided it was safe to leave him alone for a while. She gently moved out from under him, letting him rest on the bed. Once she was sure the motion wouldn't wake him up, she stood and walked to the bathroom. She stripped down and stepped into the bath. Luckily, it had a shower attachment.

She knew she shouldn't shower yet, so that DNA could be collected when she was found, but she wasn't sure when that would happen, and the desire to feel clean again was too overwhelming. She turned the water on as hot as she could handle it and relaxed.

But no matter how hard she washed, she didn't feel clean, and after having talked to so many victims, she knew she wouldn't for a long, long time.

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><p>AN: Just a heads-up: if this story ever gets deleted from this site, I have it posted on others. Go to my profile to find the links. Thanks!


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